Sterek Week 2015
by phlossie
Summary: A collection of unrelated works for Sterek week 2015 that weren't really long enough to class as individual fics. Including: Cachous For Love, Kismet, Running - A snippet from Together We Stand, Bittersweet Mulberry Sky, Dark Shadows, Our Love Comes Back, and The Best Thing Since Peanuts.
1. Cachous For Love

_Author's Notes: this is for Sterek Week 2015 on tumblr... and yes, I published it a week early, because i'm an idiot. -.-_

* * *

"Don't even think about it"

Stiles continued to advance, wriggling his sticky fingers in mock menace.

"I knew baking with you was a bad idea…" Derek edged around the bench to get away.

Stiles reached across it, but his arms weren't long enough and he settled for obscenely licking the frosting off each finger instead. "But you promised you'd help me not burn the house down."

Derek was beginning to question his sanity… who was he kidding, he was always questioning his sanity. He was dating Stiles, they shared an apartment, Stiles _sung_ in the shower and collected scented, woodland animal shaped, soaps. At this particular moment though, he had no idea how it had gone this far, because Stiles was obscenely licking lime green frosting that Derek had expressly banned him from using because it 'looks like Shrek's earwax' off his fingers, and he _liked_ it.

Stiles cocked an eyebrow at him. "What?"

Derek sighed "Nothing"

"You've got that constipated look that means you're desperately trying to deny something, Der. What is it?"

Derek tried to abort the situation by adding cachous over the frosting on the array of grotesquely colored cupcakes.

"Derek" Stiles poked him in the side then ducked under his arm so he stood between him and the bench.

"You're such a pest." He continued sprinkling the little silver balls onto the snot-icing over the top of Stiles head.

"But you love me."

Derek froze. Stiles grinned shamelessly into his face. What was Stiles trying to do? What was he trying to get Derek to do? They didn't _say_ things like that.

He coughed, at a loss, and nodded.

Stiles smiled radiantly, apparently unaware of Derek's confusion, and pecked him on the lips.

"Love you too" he said over his shoulder as he went to start the cleaning, then continued talking like nothing out of the ordinary had just happened "So I was thinking, it's gonna be Dad's birthday next week, and he doesn't really like making a big deal out of it, but would you maybe like to come with? It's nothing fancy, just dinner at our place and drinks after…" A pause "Der?" Stiles turned to look at him only to find Derek frozen in the middle of the kitchen, eyes as round as saucers. "Ummmm… Are you okay?"

No response.

"Derek."

"Hm, umm, yeah, no, that would be great. Love to come." He was in so deep, so fucking deep, when did this even happen. Stiles was taking him to a _family gathering_.

"Are you sure you're okay? You're just, looking a bit freaked out..."

Derek took a deep breath, this was- how had he not realized this yet, was he mentally deficient? Had Laura failed to mention that he was dropped on his head as a baby?

"Der? Whats going on?"

He was in love with Stiles; and _Stiles loved him back._

"Derek!" Stiles was frowning, scrubbing brush discarded.

His chest felt like it was going to bust open if he didn't do something _right now._

"I love you, Stiles" he swept his boyfriend up and kissed him deeply.

"Mm-" Stiles tried to pull back a little, to express his surprise, but Derek slid his fingers into his hair and tugged gently "MMMmmmm."

* * *

The icing was a little dry by the time they got back to it, Stiles said he loved it anyway. Derek found the crunch helped him feel less like he was eating Ogre snot.

* * *

Everyone was confused by the wedding cake, not totally unsurprised, it was Stiles after all, but confused nonetheless.

Stiles just grinned facetiously at their inquiries, though Derek looked mildly constipated, and the pack resigned themselves to getting the couple roaring drunk to find out the answer.

It was Derek, much to Stiles amusement, who ended up spilling the beans, flushing pink all the way down to his chest hair and mumbling out the explanation to his raptured audience.

No one was particularly surprised when, amongst the photos of the bridal party, a full page of the album was dedicated to the violently green cake.


	2. Kismet

It's not really a surprise, working out that Hale is a Werewolf. It's not an easy thing to hide. Between the 'mystery illnesses' every full moon and the tendency towards reclusively and growling. Which, honestly, was just _sloppy._ No, the surprise came when he worked out that Derek _liked_ him.

It was confusing at first, and scary. Stiles never thought he would be in the same league as a guy like Derek Hale, after a while though, once he got used to the idea, it was fun. Even though some people thought they were freaks, wizards weren't known for being progressive, and more than a few Slytherins chose Stiles as a hexing bag, they quickly learnt he was not to be meddled with and their friends stuck by them. They were good, life was good.

And then Stiles found out Derek's family was going to die.

And things went down hill from there.

* * *

"Don't" He shuffles down the bench, putting space between them. They used to sit so close Stiles could feel the warmth in his bones.

"Derek" it's almost a sob. He's so strung out, tired from the visions, tired from pushing himself to find something else, something more, anything. Anything at all to save Derek from this.

"Please" It's a whisper but Stiles still hears it. Hears the desperation. He knows Derek doesn't mean to push him away, knows he doesn't really blame Stiles, is just so, so very lost. He knows that what he's really saying is "tell me it isn't true" Stiles desperately wishes it _was_ an ill conceived joke, wishes for the first time in his life that he is wrong, that it isn't true, the universe got it wrong.

He gets up to leave, every fibre in his body feels like it will split in two; and something shakes loose in him as he walks away, settles into the hollow of his chest with steady determination.

* * *

If Derek had known it would be the last time he saw Stiles he would have said something, wouldn't have said what he did. He spends days in his chambers. Neither the students nor the teachers disturb him, they seem to understand that his grief cannot be consoled.

He's losing his family, and now he's lost Stiles too.

The pain is physical, a cut so deep it cannot heal.

Professor McGonagall comes to make sure he takes his potion the day of the full moon. She is the first person to interact with him since Stiles left, she knocks smartly on the door and plonks the draught down on his bedside table.

"Mr Hale" She addresses him. "I understand your circumstances, but it does you no good to let it fester into such interminable solitude." At the door frame she turns. "Perhaps, if you cannot conceive to come out for your own sake, you will do it for your friends'."

That is what it takes to shake Derek from his dogged punishment.

Erica hugs him tightly, tears running onto his robes. Even Scott firmly clasps his shoulder, and Derek realizes he has been a fool; a selfish fool.

Life gets a little better after that. The date Stiles gave drawing ever nearer, but nobody knows where he is. It's like he walked away form Derek at the bench and disappeared.

Derek thinks its more likely he Disapperated. Wouldn't be in the least surprised to find he did, school rules never really seemed to apply to Stiles.

He wishes he were here though, wishes he hadn't pushed so hard, wishes he had tried to understand instead of lashing out.

His family has requested that he stay at the school. He understands why but its a terrible burden to know the future and be unable to do anything about it. They send him letters every day, telling him nothing and everything. Trying to say all the things they need to say. He spends hours composing replies. His mother tells him about his family heritage, gives him what she can to help him once she's gone. Derek desperately tries to learn it all without thinking on why. Little Cora sends him a drawing of their house though, and he almost breaks down in the great hall. Boyd hugs him hard when he finds him in the third floor bathrooms.

Professor Longbottom gives him the day off. Derek spends it curled on the floor of his room, trying to forget, wishing he could forget.

He falls asleep there, in a pool of tears.

* * *

"Derek... Derek."

Stiles shakes his shoulder gently. The crescent moon is setting over the horizon, flooding the room with silver and cutting sharp lines across his face.

He stares blearily up at him. "Stiles? Am I dreaming?"

"No, no… I- I did it Derek, I fixed it. They're alive." his face twists anxiously.

"wh-what?" He's starting to wake up now, Stiles can see his brain processing.

"I didn't know if I could, but I did, I stopped it all from happening... They're alive!"

Derek recoils slightly and Stiles' face falls, shock he thinks, its just shock.

He clears his throat, eyes glazed. "They're… okay…"

It's not really a question but Stiles nods.

Derek looks up at him. "Stiles" He breathes it out like a dedication and Stiles holds on tight.


	3. Running

_Author's Notes: this is actually part of Together We Stand, an insert if you like, and a teaser because part two will be dropping in the next month or so! it is also a part of Sterek week 2015, for the prompt hunters moon. Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Terror flooded his senses making him trip and tear through the dense trees. His lungs and throat ache with the fridgid air.

He can hear their boots behind him, crunching on leaves, they aren't trying to be quiet. Make no pretense of stealth: want him to be afraid, to run like a frightened rabbit.

Derek's hand is rough in his. Pulling him along with a vice like grip, half shifted, even more panicked than he is.

It feels like they'd been running for hours, and the hunters always sound like they're just meters behind.

There is a sharp crack; a gunshot he thinks, and Derek takes a sharp turn, for a moment icy fear grips Stiles thinking that he's been hit, but they kept running and Derek doesn't falter.

Stiles legs give out soon afterwards though, and he falls face first onto the mouldering leaves. Derek heaves him upright by his hold on his hand and Stiles' shoulder screams under the pressure. The wolf hoists him onto his back and continues running.

He can still hear the hunters behind them, and see the shafts of light their torches split through the trees. They seem to be everywhere.

Stiles wonders where on earth they had gone so horribly wrong, it was supposed to be easy, just a couple of looney hunters, nothing they hadn't dealt with before. Their resources and numbers so insignificant he'd been surprised Isaac hadn't rescued himself already.

That should have been the first warning sign.

Hours later, Derek collapses against a tree, slinging Stiles onto the dirt, doubling over to drag in ragged gulps of air, choking around sobs.

Something crunches in their immediate vicinity and they both startle, Stiles grabs Derek by his wrist and drags him into a small hollow between the tree roots. Clinging to him in abject terror.

"Derek" he whispers, for no particular reason other than to assure himself that the other was there, brain so choked with fear it needs to be doubly sure.

Derek doesn't say anything, simply curls himself more tightly around Stiles.

Both their bodies shake as the adrenalin wears off, Stiles hardly notices as his shoulder gets progressively wetter with Derek's tears.

When the glaze finally leaves his eyes and he recovers his wits he asks what is wrong.

"They're gone" Derek replies. "I still cant feel them- Not even Scott"

"Oh" It's all he can manage through the adrenalin and fear, his emotions clogged by cracking twigs and crunching boots.


	4. Bittersweet Mulberry Sky

_Author's Notes: For Sterek week 2015 day four, Crayons. See if you can find the five colors in the fic and let me know!_

* * *

Razzmatazz is the color of Stiles hoodie when he walks to meet Derek in the woods. So close to red it almost passes. Derek can see the differences though, in the color and the boy. The new slope to his shoulders, the cautious distance in his whiskey eyes. He doesn't overbalance the way he used to at the slightest push.

The color makes his eyes hurt and he scowls by wrote. Falling into an attitude so familiar its like a second skin. Stiles gives him that cocky smile, mostly unchanged by the years, and it all settles back into place the way he knew it would. Derek breathes in for the first time since he left.

Stiles takes him to see the house, returned to its grandeur, but, like his old pack, fundamentally differing from memory. The walls are a soft green grey that makes a hidden part of him shiver, Stiles slyly comments that its Timberwolf. Derek wonders what on earth possessed anyone to let him choose the paint. It's almost a perfect match to the color of his Henley.

They have dinner with whoever turns up. The pack is spread across the state, Derek can feel the tight threads holding them together like a spot at the corner of his vision, not quite focused, annoyingly uncatchable. Stiles keeps their legs pressed together at the knee under the table and he can smell the loneliness on his skin, see it in the way he keeps a measured distance form the others, hear it in the careful way they address him.

He wants to reach out, to fix this unfathomable brokenness, but it is not his to fix.

They scrub the dishes in mutual silence. Derek choked on insecurity and Stiles isolated by choice.

Scott puts the game on and the others all settle onto the couch, lazing around each other with the easy, unselfconscious, camaraderie a pack should. Stiles stands back, against the wall and Derek with him, not sure if he fits in this newly made family, even in his childhood home.

Stiles watches them for a while, then silently takes Derek by the hand. Leading him out of the building and into the forest.

The crescent moon smiles down on them, brushing stripes across their faces between the trees.

Stiles runs his fingers through the underbrush and sets off a flurry of tiny phosphorescent bugs, the sunglow in their abdomens softening the contrast of shadow under the boughs.

They watch the winking yellow lights create constellations of their own design and Stiles fingers become forever tangled in Derek's heart.

They wake late, the shadow of the trees keeping the bright sun from their faces. Derek watches Stiles' umber eyes come open, watches the dappled light reflect off his iris and wonders what the warmth in his chest means, the fuzzy wuzzy feeling, if its just from the sunspot, or if it's generated there, in the depths of his being.

Stiles retakes his hand, but doesn't lead him, simply stands and waits, ready to go where ever Derek does. A part of him isn't ready to go back, even though he _is_ back, and knows he will be again eventually. It has a lot to do with the cracks in the tight web of connections between Stiles and his family and a lot to do with not coming back soon enough the first time.

They find a stream. Derek knows it runs into a lake, and they splash through its chilly water, following it's flow into the open. Derek strips off his shirt and collapses into the polished surface, Stiles watches the ripples rush towards the shoreline before joining him. Letting the crispness cleanse the hollow part in his chest, enjoying the vastness of the blue sky, the feeling of infinity, suspended in the water. He realizes this is his absolute zero, his point of genesis.

Their point of genesis.

The start of something new.


	5. Dark Shadows

_Author's Notes: For Sterek Week 2015 day four, 'Scene Stealer' i stole the entire ending of Dark Shadows, it got so far out of control, I'm so sorry._

* * *

"Angry Mob! RUN!" Finstock squawks, hurrying away from the front door.

Lady Lydia watches him go, then calmly takes her nephew by the shoulders and directs him to the house, it would not be the strangest thing to happen all week.

"Scott, go inside" She looks up at Derek and he follows, moving with intent as he hears the police sirens wail up the drive.

The Lady turns at the door to stand next to her daughter, facing the oncoming townsfolk with dignity. Ire building when she hears the drone of _that woman's_ muscle car. Keeping her head up as the sheriff and townsfolk crowd onto her turning circle.

"Lyds, I'm sorry" And he really does look trite, though the effect is rather dampened by the malicious smirk on Kate's face as she stalks towards them. "I'm gonna have to take you in." he pauses. "All a you"

She raises her eyebrows, this simply is not going to happen. "John" she walks down the stairs, all elegance, though there is an entirely feminine threat in the swish of her hips. "The Hale family _built_ this town. We built it with _our_ boats and _our_ nets" she snarls at Kate who only smirks wider. "Our sacrifices and our blood." She tells the sheriff. "And this is how you repay us?"

"You've been harboring a murderer" Kate cuts across his reply. "Arrest them." She commands, smug in her righteouness, and the sheriff looks torn.

"I shall go willingly" They all startle as Derek strides from the house onto the terraced steps "To whatever punishment awaits." The crowd gasps, Kate frowns though and Lydia is pleased to see the sour look. It means things are not going according to her plan. "Provided no harm befalls my family."

"Hold it right there." Sheriff Stilinski edges his hand toward his gun, but Derek raises an imperious hand and he halts with a glazed look.

"Provided Ms Argent goes along with me," he continues his advance, hand keeping the sheriff at bay. "For she is no less a monster than I."

In the background Erica shuts the doors to their mansion, retreating into its depths.

"Perhaps it's best..." Derek takes a hold of Kate's neck, now solely addressing her and breaking his hold on the sheriff who blinks confoundedly. "...If we are both Destroyed" he closes his grip on her throat and she chokes, air whistling hoarsely into her lungs.

"Mr Hale, Back off!" the sheriff draws his weapon. "I'm warning you!"

Derek does no such thing and Stilinski fires several shots into his back to no effect. His eyes go wide over the barrel of the gun and the crowd begins to panic.

"Go on" Kate taunts. "Slaughter me!" Her neck crackles like china under his grip. "Show him what you _Are."_ She presses her fingers over his, encouraging.

"No" Derek glares into her snake eyes "I shall show them what _we_ are." he pulls her head to one side and bites down hard on her neck. Kate gasps skin chinking as fracture lines shoot their way up its surface and she throws him, flying back into the heavy doors of the castle, splintering them, he lands on the marble floor of the entry hall.

Someone in the crowd calls "What's that man done to Katie?"

Lady Lydia turns, eyes venomous and glares Kate down. "It's not him its _her_." she spits. "She's a _witch"_

Unconcerned Kate turns her head on her loose neck to face the onlooking townsfolk. "Excuse me" She smiles ingratiatingly then turns and strides into the house. The people titter nervously, entirely unsure of their previously righteous anger.

Finstock jumps in front of her in the entryway, with a baseball bat "You gotta get through me first, lady." but Kate simply swipes him to the side and he flies into the coat rack with a deafening thud.

The sheriff watches from outside with a look of disbelief, realizing events are quickly spiraling out of his jurisdiction. "Alright everybody go on home now, nothin to see here" His officers hurry to get the crowd moving.

Inside the house Kate advances on her ex-lover "You should have loved me Derek" she scolds as he stands up. "None of this would have happened if you'd just loved me." her voice quivers, and he curls his lip in disgust.

"I should have destroyed you, you brought me nothing but misery."

She frowns "I gave you my _heart!"_

"You have no heart!" perhaps he did not either, but he had never made such a pretension and was therefore beyond reproach in that respect.

She continues her advance unpeterbed. "You're the curse! Women are undone by loving you…" a crazed look comes over her features. "Maczysz, Paige, professor Blake, and your beloved **Stiles.** "

Derek tries not to let the anger read on his face, he will _destroy_ her before he lets her take his beloved again. "I command you to release him from your curse."

"Command? You make me sick!" and, on cue, she spews forth a great torrent of bile.

Derek dodges and raises his eyebrows. "Missed me." Antagonizing her further was perhaps not a good move, for she produces another great stream of vomit and catches him right in the face.

He shudders at the sensation, revolted by both the woman and her actions. "Vulger hideous serpent, I shall deliver you to hells doorstep!" he retakes her throat and bends it from side to side, listening to the satisfying tinkle of her ceramic skin, finally flinging her through the roof into the storey above.

There is a satisfying thud and shout as she lands and he steps back to avoid the debris raining down from the hole, that should occupy her for a while. Long enough to get some of this disgusting liquid off his face.

There is a growling from the rafters above Kate's head, and she looks up to see furry legs appear through the young Hale's floral pajamas.

Erica bears her teeth. "Get. Out. OF MY ROOM!" she roars, nails scratching lines onto the large beams.

Kate, raises her eyebrows, such drama, and descends to the lower floor through the hole she made on her way up, loosening more debris as she goes.

"Katherine!" Lady Lydia calls from behind Derek, who still has smears of parbreak on his skin and clothes. "Get outta my house." Her eyes narrow dangerously and she cocks her semi automatic, barely waiting for Kate to smirk before firing at her, sending her stumbling backwards with each subsequent shot until she is thrown over entirely by the force of it.

Kate lies on the floor for a moment, then like a doll manipulated for childs-play, flips over, body moving in entirely unnatural ways to maintain functionality in the face of its injuries. She clinks and scrapes against the marble floor as a child's tea-party. "Your house?" she asks, perfect face marred by fissures and dents and appearing deranged, she casts her gaze over the family portraits on the walls for consensus and they begin to laugh, mocking lady Lydia's conviction.

The house creaks as even the statues bend from their plinths to join the joke, and the snakes wrapped up the balustrades unwind themselves and slither up the stairs towards Lydia in threat. She fires at them, sending splinters flying into the air, and herself backwards onto the stairs with the force of the blast. She is immensely relieved when beheading proves fatal even to inanimate objects.

Derek scowls "Enough trickery!" he hits Kate hard across the cheek. She spins away, face sliding into hurt anger.

"I worshipped you." She whines, regaining her footing.

"You plagued me!" Derek snarls, hitting her again.

"I adored you!" she howls, retaliating and sending him stumbling.

He picks up a lump of wood from the floor. "I despised you." He hisses and hits her again splintering the wood over her head, there is a satisfying tinkle of broken china.

She lands some feet away and glares "Fine… If Hale blood built this house, then let us _bathe_ in it." She smiles malevolently.

Derek follows her gaze up to his portrait above the fire place, red tracks of blood are ooozing from his face there like tears. They drip down his uncle's portrait on the other wall too, and the flowers by the staircase wilt as blood flows down his mothers cheeks in the portrait above.

Hale glares at her, seeing the portrait of his first love Maczysz run red and a large crack split the wall behind it and feeling his hatred build to unearthly levels.

The cracks continue around the building, rending furniture, ornaments and portraits alike, setting loose the carved statues, which rise form the walls with deep malicious laughter. Lydia sways on her feet like a boxer readying for a fight, turning to shoot one of the statues when it reaches out to grab her form behind. The house has turned hostile under Kate's stare.

There's a bright flare form the fire place and the couch and coffee table catch alight, Derek stumbles back from their intensity and Kate throws the burning table towards him, rushing him into the clutches of another statue where he is trapped.

Her advance is halted by a growling from above, and Erica flies down through the hole in the floor of her room, barking at Kate when she lands between the witch and Derek.

"Leave us alone." She rumbles.

"Erica" calls Lydia, shocked by her daughters hairy appearance. "Erica, My God."

Erica turns her shaggy head to her mother and quite calmly states "I'm a werewolf, okay? Lets not make a big deal out of it." She huffs around her teeth mildly incensed by her mothers propriety, though her furred face remains hidden in the shadow of her hair. "Woof" she finally mocks and leaps at Kate, tearing into her with relish. Kate throws her off into one of the walls, but Erica gets back up, barely injured and leaps at her again, sinking her teeth into her arm. Kate shakes her violently and Lydia cocks her gun from the stairs, ready to take a shot, however when Kate throws Erica off and she lands with a whimper at the base of the stairs, Lydia drops the weapon in favor of helping her.

"What have you done to my Daughter." Lydia snaps, glaring at Kate with renewed hatred.

"Well Lyds, your perfect Hale pedigree lacked a bitta substance. So, I sent the Werewolf who bit Erica in her crib." Lydia frowns, realizing the strangeness of her daughter wasn't entirely her own fault.

Flames flare up the sides of the stairs and Kate turns to the front door where Scott is hiding behind a pillar. "Just like I made Scott no better than a Bastard. When I sent his _Mommy_ to the ocean floor to have tea with the tuna." She smiles toothily and bends a little as she walks towards him, caching her words like baby talk.

"And as for you my love," she says, looking up towards Derek where he is trapped in the hold of the sculpture. "I killed your Mother and Father" she climbs easily up to face him, curling her fingers over his shoulders and stroking his cheek. "I cursed your family my Derek." she Coos "They kept us apart." She presses her thumb agains his clavicle in a gentler mirror of his previous hold on her own. "They never understood we're the same, we're meant to be."

"Leave him alone" Scott demands in a strong voice and Kate turns to face him again.

"I think I'll kill you first. Orphan" she leaps down from her perch against Derek.

"Scott, get out!" Lydia yells, clinging to her injured daughter and unable to save her nephew.

"Your quarrel is with me!" Derek pleads still trapped by the carving.

"My quarrel is with alla you" she threatens, circling with Scott.

"I'm warning you, this is your last chance." He says, backing away from her and further into the burning room. "Let us go."

"And what'll you do if I don't, you little Bastard." She snarls, abruptly vindictive.

He stops backing away. "Not me, My mom."

The lights in the entry hall behind Kate begin to flicker and she turns, eyes widening.

Everyone in the room watches the doorway as Ms McCall-Hale appears out of the air, hair streaming, arms raised, ire written in every line of her face, and screams. Shattering every vase in the room and sending Kate flying backwards into the ornate chandelier, which swings ever so slightly then falls tinkling to the floor.

Derek falls as Kates evil magic loosens its hold on the statue. "GO!" he commands the others as the supernatural fires leap from their constraints and begin to eat up the walls.

Lydia bodly lifts Erica and carries her towards the doors, the flames destroying things after her.

"Scotty! Come on!" she calls and he runs out ahead of them, waking Finstock on his way. The old butler shakes himself awake and stands for a split second taking in the rapidly deteriorating entrance hall then hurriedly follows them from the building.

Derek approaches Kate's crumpled body where it rests against the remnants on the chandelier. Her arms held out like puppets on a string by the loops of crystal.

"So this is how it ends…" he crouches down. "So quiet, as if you were asleep…" She is not so different now, less vital, less manipulative, but she is still beautiful in her own way. "You know there was a time, when I might have loved you." He had, he had loved her, but she had not been right, she had not been the man he needed. She had been the woman he could have. We could have spent eternity together." In this century though, he could have Stiles, he had no need for this once captivating girl, not once she had become a crazed old hag.

"We still- can." She whispers skin cracked as if in old age.

"You never wanted my love." he admonishes. "You wanted to posses me."

"No." a tear leaks out of the corner of her bruised eye. "I love you Derek."

His face hardens. "You cannot love Katherine. That is your curse." Just as he may not have a heart, but still could love, passionately so, blindingly so. He _had_ loved her once, but that love paled in size and beauty and _vitality_ when compared to Stiles'.

The tear runs down into one of the cracks in her face and she pulls her arm from the chain of crystals, reaching for her chest she presses in, piercing the porcelain skin and drawing out her beating, bloodless heart.

Derek watches in mild horror as she offers it to him. "Take it" she whispers as its pulsing slows, but he does not and in the next moment it cracks, shattering like her skin and crumbling onto the floor.

She sags against the chandelier and Derek reaches out, gently touching her cheek, it crumbles and chipped pieces fall into the cavity of her vacant body.

He frowns, and there is a fizz as part of the roof falls in. He leaps into action, suddenly realizing that he still cannot sense his beloved. "Stiles, Stiles!" he calls, but the young man isn't there and a sudden sick panic sweeps through him. She had promised after all, that she would send his young lover to the same fate as his last.

He storms towards the front door, interrupting Scott as he converses with the ghost of his mother.

"She said Widows hill." He calls as Derek passes, watching him dash away.

Derek storms along the track, heart racing at how strikingly similar it all is.

As Stiles and Derek stride though the forest, the Hale family watch their home burn down.

"What do we do now?" Scott asks, voice small as the house facade crumbles.

"What we always do." Lydia replies, drawing the two children close. "Endure."

On the hill Stiles begins to make the climb towards the precipitous cliff, Derek racing to catch up.

Stiles is terrified, but also resolute, there is nothing he can do to stop his legs from moving, no amount of blubbering will change the mind of the curse, it's also calming, finally knowing what Maczysz has been trying to tell him. They walk side by side, Maczysz floating over the white, wind tattered grass.

When he reaches the cliff egde he looks down, immensely calm now, readying for the fall he knows will come. Like the fall Maczysz had shown him from the chandelier in the great hall.

The surf crashes on the black rocks and his feet propel him ever further towards the edge, then strong hands grab his shoulders, turning him, and, just like that, the motion stops, and the spell is broken.

"I thought I'd lost you" Derek breaths as they embrace.

Stiles smiles softly. "You have lost me." He had not realised it till he looked over the edge of the cliff, and Maczysz had stepped over even when he was stopped. He closes his eyes.

Derek pulls back, confused.

"I live in the light Derek. You live in the shadows." He watches the confusion furrow his beloveds brow, and wishes it must not be so. "I'll grow old and die and you'll live forever." It had occurred to him as he walked, while the witch may yet steal his life, she had already stolen Derek from him, the answer was a simple one.

Derek shakes his head. "We will find a way, my love."

"There's only one way." The wind ruffles his short hair, as he says it. It is true, there was no way for Stiles to live with Derek as a human, there could be no way, Kate had seen to that.

"No" Derek says gravely. "I will not see you suffer as I do. Never."

Stiles smiles gently, he would fall after all, and pulls backward, out of Derek's arms.

"NO!" Derek scrambles for the edge, then throws himself off it.

He catches Stiles mid fall and clutches him hard to his body, sinking his teeth into his neck.

They hit the rocks with a bone shattering thud, waves crashing over them.

Derek struggles up, body and heart numb with anxiety. He cannot bear to have failed, he will find some way to follow Stiles if he has. He gently lifts his lovers body, limp and unconscious, he cannot detect a pulse. "Stiles, My sweet." He looks down at his peaceful face. Cold heart sinking when he remains lifeless. "Stiles!" The young man's face glows, and before his very eyes transforms into the luminant, deep eyed, semblance of his own.

"Maczysz." He corrects him, lifting a long nailed finger to Derek's cheek. He turns his face into it tenderly pressing his lips to his palm, then lifts his soulmate up to kiss, there amongst the crashing waves. Their curse finally lifted.


	6. Our Love Comes Back

_Author's Notes: Written to time with James Blake's ' Our love Comes Back' its a little bit short, so read slowly? sorry... Also for sterek week 2015, so it occurs as a chapter in both collections! :) xxx_

* * *

Stiles tries not to scream, he hates it. Hates the spike of fear it sends through the house, the way his dad will rush to his room looking panicked and half awake.

He dislikes dealing with it on his own, but it's better than having to speak, having to vocalize what he's seen.

With Derek it's different. He will jerk awake at the scream, startled into consciousness, but he doesn't panic. Has never panicked, has never looked at Stiles with wide, terrified eyes and asked him to stop. Has never said no, not even when Stiles told him how he died. He barely flinched, just nodded and smiled softly and curled around him like everything would be okay.

With Derek everything was okay.

Stiles has found that the visions are less scary when he is in Derek's bed. He still downloads them, sends them to Danny for processing, but he doesn't get that hot sick feeling when he has to re-live them for the chip.

Derek is always there beside him, calm, collected, solid.

During the day he works at a small bookshop. Stiles likes to sit in the window and read while he shelves and catalogues. The smell of old dust and paper so strong it wipes out the sense memory. The worlds between the covers promising intellectual escape.

Sometimes they go for walks, strolling hand in hand, letting the world go by.

Stiles isn't allowed to do anything until he turns Twenty-three, or has his first lapse. Whichever comes first.

He tries not to feel bitter about it, but up till senior year he was going to be a forensic psychologist.

Then, ironically, he'd seen his first murder and it all came tumbling down around his ears.

Derek had studied once, he was carefully vague about it and Stiles was just as happy to let him be. If he hadn't stopped they wouldn't have met and Stiles would still be living at the institute, sleeping his days away and screaming his nights into dawn.

It was easier, in a difficult sort of way, to be here with Derek.

On the nights that he doesn't see, he pretends it's all over. That their lives have returned to normal and they can start living again.

Sometimes the idea terrifies him, because when it's all over, Derek might not stay… not once Stiles is normal, when the agitation and anxiety and restlessness continue even though the visions don't.

Everyone gets sick of it- of _him,_ eventually.

But when he does sleep, deep and dreamless, it's always the promise of company in the morning that lets him rest.

It doesn't worry him the way it should, the broken way they fit. Like chipped pieces of a smashed in window, sharp and vicious, transparent to all those around them.

Derek doesn't care that Stiles body shakes with experiences beyond its years, Stiles loves that Derek's fits perfectly around the curve of his. Filling the spaces left by false memories.

It's difficult not to feel hopeless when you can see everyone's ending before you even get to start.

He'd do anything to let in a little light, just to see it fracture through the broken shards that make them up and watch the prism dance across his eyelids like late morning sun. It might help with the belly deep ache, the heaviness in his limbs. One day he will start living; and it will be a wonderful thing.

The one time Stiles asked Derek what he would be doing if none of this ever happened. If Stiles had never fallen out of his car in the middle the Walmart carpark and screamed into his shocked face. If Stiles had never taken so many inhibitors he'd had a waking vision. If Derek hadn't forgotten to get Laura's Jalna. The one time Stiles unsubtly asked what Derek would rather be doing: He stared intently into his face, pushed him firmly back until he hit the wall and kissed him until his head spun, his knees shook and his chest ached with wanting.

There's nothing sexual, though, about the way Derek curls around the space between Stiles shoulder and thigh. No heat in his hands when they press firmly, insistently, constantly against his body. It is a possessive touch without smothering, careful but not ineffectual, both heavy and light; and able to make Stiles whole. Derek can bring his thundering heart to a standstill just by touching his arm, he can communicate his worry, concern, desire, with just a look. He lets Stiles feel and be and _heal_ any way he needs to, any way he can and Stiles wouldn't rewrite this future for the world.


	7. The Best Thing Since Peanuts

Stiles might be reconsidering the wisdom of choosing Charlie Brown for halloween. He'd thought it was funny to begin with, like _really_ funny. Cos you know, Scott was a _Werewolf_ … and Stiles was pretty much his _human;_ and who didn't find vague werewolf puns using fifty year old comics amusing? Now though, now that he can see all the ridiculously attractive, _hot models_ in their _designer crafted costumes_ , he is feeling a little bit… _underdressed._

Even Scott looks cool in his last-minute-holyshitineedacostumestileswherecanigetacostume?-costume, which he'd picked up from the party shop at the end of their street and was covered in dubious-might-be-actual-blood-stains. In fact he seemed to have picked up a very pretty Katniss or maybe genderbend hawkeye, Stiles couldn't tell between all the writhing bodies and strobe lighting.

So, yeah, Stiles was beginning to regret the scull cap and yellow top combo that sorta made him look like a psychedelic . Which he wasn't _against_ per se, it just wasn't what he was _going for_ when he started out.

That was: cultured, intelligent _and_ funny, not just, that-one-weird-kid-who-always-manages-to-make-things-awkward, which, he had a feeling, was what he _was_.

He sidled over to the bar hoping to drown his troubles in ridiculously overpriced, but if he's lucky paid for by the hosts, beverages, they were probably all going to taste like horrifyingly inaccurate children's sweets, but at this point, he was beyond caring.

Unfortunately the bar was occupied by a very glowery do-not-approach-on-pain-of-death Lumberjack. Who, on closer inspection, happened to be Derek Hale, the much older roommate of Scott's friend Isaac, who had, for his part, ignored Stiles for the last three months he'd known him. Which was fine, because Stiles had a lot of practice at admiring from afar, a _Lot_ of practice. Capital L.

At this moment in time though, with gyrating attractive people who were not even remotely interested in gyrating in his vicinity also pretending he didn't exist, Stiles felt that maybe the several month long moratorium should come to an end. At least that way they could be miserable together.

"Hi!"

Derek's eyebrows did a Mexican wave of confusion.

"This seat taken? No? Cool, I'll just…" He perched on the barstool. "Yeah. So, uh, how's it going? Enjoying the party?-"

Derek scowled in a way that Stiles felt could be interpreted as 'no, I'm not enjoying the party' rather than 'stop talking to me you weirdo.' so he took it as a sign to continue.

"-Or well, not. I totally understand dude, I suck at this kind of thing, totally not my style, always come off looking like a douchebag. I think it might be a medical condition, you heard of foot in mouth disease? Not like, foot _and_ mouth disease. I'm pretty sure I'd be in a quarantine if I had that, Ha.-"

A very small quirk turned up the corners of his mouth.

"-No like, the minute I open my mouth, the worst possible thing I could say comes out of it. It's a curse! I cant imagine having conversation like a normal person. But you seem to have that whole caper down pat… Or well, you've got the not-foot-in-mouth thing working for you at least…"

The eyebrows said 'oh?'

"I'm not sure _not_ -saying-anything would work all that well for me…" he grinned deprecatingly and got a very tentative smile in return.

"I'm Stiles by the way, I think we've met, but I don't know if I actually introduced myself…" He extended his hand, which Derek took after a moments hesitation.

"Derek"

"Yeah man! You're Isaac's roomie right?-"

There was a brief flash of surprise, and a minute nod.

"-I popped by the other day with Scott before the game, crazy you know, I would not have expected the Mets to lose to those guys. Completely unforeseen, I even lost fifty to Scott, and that never happens! I feel like I've been cheated-"

The bartender plonked a glass of garish pink liquid in front of him and he grabbed it mid flow, nodding his assent, although he had no idea where it had come from.

"-Thanks -like the gods conspired against me or something. It's like that essay I had to write for post modern lit-"

Derek's left eyebrow was slowly climbing its way up his forehead.

"- Sorry, I'm rambling! Feel free to cut me off man, any time. God knows I can talk for hours if you let me go." Stiles pulled a face and Derek's other eyebrow joined the first.

There was an awkward pause.

'So, Wolverine huh? That's cool, Wouldn't have picked you as a DC man! But I like the subtlety. It's nice to see you in something other than black and dark grey.-" _Oh dear god, why did I say that? Now he probably thinks I've been stalking him!_ "- Not that it doesn't suit you, it's just... nice? _..._ to see variety!" _You are a complete social failure._

Derek had this cute little incredulous smirk. "I'm not sure Yellow is your color…" he said and his eyes flicked down, then up Stiles' body.

Stiles couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or the stuffy room, but he suddenly felt hot all over. "Oh. Uhh… yeah, it was- Scott was gonna come as Snoopy, but someone stole the head and used it to make a were-rights art installation on the Quad. So, I'm flying solo."

Derek got this constipated look on his face again and his eyes flicked up to focus on something over Stiles shoulder.

"Uh" Stiles turned _. Speaking of the devil_. "Oh hey Scotty! Sup?" Scott had his arm draped over Hawkeye's shoulder and was smiling goofily at her as they walked over to Derek and Stiles at the bar.

"Hey Stiles! Derek." The killer glare he received barely even dented his perennially cheery attitude. "This is Allison, she just moved over from Jackson with her dad. Ally this is Stiles" he waved. "And this is Derek."

Derek growled and flashed his eyes and was suddenly all up in Scott's personal space. "What the hell do you think you're doing." It was really more of a growl, and Scott barred his teeth instinctively.

"Woah man." Stiles tripped off the stool and tried to pull Derek back a little, the contact seemed to make it worse though, because Derek actively growled at Scott and they both wolfed out a little. "Okay… O-kay" He took a step back, they were starting to draw attention. "Scott, let it go man, Whatever it is, walk away, just walk away." It was too late though, the wolves already stuck in their primal power struggle.

"What do you think you're doing, rubbing it in like that?" Derek enunciated each word like a punch.

All Stiles could think was: _Thank god they're still verbal._

"I don't know what you're talking about." Scott snapped around his fangs.

It was the wrong thing to say and Derek snarled and lunged forward, but came up against the suddenly very real bow and arrow Allison had been using as a prop.

"Hold it right there."

Derek was growling still, a continuos rumble that shook through their rib cages even over the thumping bass from the party, but he didn't move.

A bouncer was making his way determinedly over to them.

Stiles tentatively touched Derek's elbow. "Derek, come on man, let it go."

The wolf wheeled on him, and Stiles flinched, trapped in his furious red tinged stare. "Let it _GO?_ He's practically cheating on you right in front of your face and you want me to _let it go?"_

"WHAT!?" Stiles took a step back and the barstool pressed into his back.

Derek barreled on. "You expect me to just _stand aside_ while he disrespects you like that?"

"Wh _at._ " Stiles mind was reeling.

"You deserve better than that Stiles. Not some asshole who clearly doesn't give a shit about how you feel. If I was dating you I'd-"

He was cut off by the Bouncer who grabbed him firmly by the shoulders. "Sorry son, but I need you to come with me." Derek's entire body froze, then sagged in defeat as the bouncer walked him away. His eyes bored into Stiles' all the way out the door.

"Well." Stiles stressed the 'L's as he turned to slump over the bar. Scott perched next to him.

"Are you okay?" Allison patted him gently on the shoulder.

"Yeah… m fine." he smiled softly. "What was that all about." Scott jerked his head over his shoulder to indicate Derek as he waved three fingers at the bartender.

Three shots of vodka appeared in front of them as Stiles answered. "I have absolutely no idea." Derek's final, unfinished sentence was still percolating its way into his head. _It'd all been so weird._ _"If I were dating you I'd"-_ _but that would mean- No way. No_ way. He looked up at the door. "I gotta go."

"What? Why? Stiles!" Scott tried to catch his arm, but he was already halfway across the room. Fighting his way through the dance floor with surprising speed.

Stiles burst out the door into the crisp autumnal air in time to hear: "Go on home now."

"But-"

"No son, go home, get some rest, cool off. You can see him again in the morning." There was a gusty sigh. "Do you need someone to call a cab?"

"No. Thank you."

"Alright." The bouncer walked up the steps, past a couple of kids smoking while they hung off the hand rail like costumed carpet pythons, and towards Stiles. He raised his eyebrows when he saw him frozen on the landing. "Okay son?"

"Y-yeah." He reflexively wiped his sweaty hands on his shirt.

"Hooo boy." The bouncer shook his head. "I aint touching this with a ten foot pole… Have a nice night kid!" He stepped up to the door and went in. Leaving Stiles alone on the landing.

He took the steps slowly.

"Derek?" He asked, reaching the bottom and looking around.

He was about ten yards away form the stairs, lurking by a lamp post with his arms folded and a scowl. "What do you want." He glared at the tarmac.

"I, um, I'm sorry about' He gestured vaguely at the street.

Derek just shrugged. "Why are you here Stiles?"

"I just- Whatever you think is going on between me and Scott, you're wrong." Derek huffed and rolled his eyes. "No, listen, we aren't together, we- I- Scotts like my _brother._ I'd never-" he took a breath, Derek was watching him and he knew he had his full attention now. "It was really, um, something, what you did in there and I- um, want to thank you, even if you were misguided, because no one has ever done anything like that for me before, and I came out here because I thought you should know that, and because I thought I should tell you that if you've been avoiding me because you think I'm dating Scott, then don't. I'm not, and I don't want you to."

Derek had stepped forward as he spoke, leaning into Stiles space a little. "You really aren't together?" his voice was soft, and thick with something Stiles shied away from categorizing.

"We really aren't." His heart felt like it was going to leap out of his body and he had the bizarre urge to clutch at it. Derek's hand was hovering by his elbow, the proximity sending reactive tingles through his skin.

"Good." Derek leant in further, inches away from Stiles and his breath fanned over his cheeks as he spoke. "Because I'd like to date you."

A bright flush fled across Stiles' skin, and he was under no misapprehensions why this time as Derek's lips slid over his, fingers smoothing up his arm to curl against his neck. Tilting his head for a better angle and ever so slightly parting his lips. Stiles gasped softly, and Derek used the opportunity to skate his tongue over his bottom lip, following with a gentle nip. He pulled back so Stiles could drag in a ragged breath.

"Yes, Please." Stiles breathed into space between them when he regained his breath, leaning in to kiss him again, grabbing a handful of his shirt to pull him closer.


End file.
